Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1887-05-27

all through 1T, says Jack. Il looked OUT Ior
that the first thing. No proper ventilation
without open chimneys, you know"
ooh, Jack!n cry "And I told you that
we must have furnace How can one
servant spend all her time making up open
fires every day? Now mine has furnace
most excellent furnace The lady who
lives there now says she has never needed an
extra fire in the house. suppose your house
has a range~
II suppose so. I'm sure don't know" says
Jack. II never thought of asking But
know it has large piazza, which will be de-
lghtful in summer
"a piazza won't cook our dinner nor send
hot water up to the bath room," I say, half
laughing. and more than half inclined to cry.
II suppose there is a bath room?'
"Oh yes" says Jack, frightening up-''an
excellent bath room; so of course there must
be range"
at doesn't follow" say, gloonily. "Some
of the bath rooms l have seen had only cold
water"
"But there are two faucets" says Jack, tri-
umphantly. ~ particularly noticed the two
faucets"
"Did you turn them or ask about them?"
"No; butt
@Then how do you know that one was for
hot water?" I ask sardonically "lt may
have been put there in case range is ever
putin. Now my bath room has hot and cold
water, and beautiful large closet for house
linen besides. How are the closets in your
house, Jack?"
II don't know" says Jack, frowning
thoughtfully. Somehow I can't seem to re-
member any + has beautiful mantelpieces,
though"
Owe can't keep our clothes in mantelpieces,
nor on them either" I say "Im not going
to live in house without closets in every
room"
"Most likely mine has plenty of Closets"
says Jack; "only I can't remember. Besides,
l never did see much good in closets any way.
Things are always getting tucked away in
them and lost. Then you have to buy more,
so that it is great saving not to have them.
I'll tell you what my house has, though-a
first rate vegetable garden"
"Who cares for a vegetable garden?" l cry,
becoming little exasperated. awe can buy
all the vegetables we want and, besides, who
is going to take care of it if you are going to
be in town all day? don't suppose you med
itate sitting up nights to dig and weed. We
should have to hire a man, and his wages
would come to more than the price of the
vegetables Now my house has beautiful
flower beds in 'front.' and flowers that stay
roses and larkspur and day lilies and such"
"NIine has grape vines and currant bushes
and two pear trees" says Jack, triumphantly.
"You know you like pears, little woman"
"Some kinds" [ say, obviously. II know
yours are the tough, bitter kisd, full of little
hard knots. The trees are only in blossom
yet, so you couldn't tell"
Mi fO,, tbafr ottar
Jack. II might as well say that all your
roses are wormy, and I dare say they are"
"Nonsense!" say, peevishly. "You're just
determined not to like my house. What color
is yours?"
"Color?" says Jack, looking puzzled "Well,
really-oh, brown, I think; yes, brown, with
red blinds
"Red blindsl" cry, in horror. "Oh, Jack!
never could stand red blinds-never in the
world. They're hot, and they're dreadful for
the eyes, and they're just horrid How could
you pick out house with red blinds, unless
it was just to spite me?"
"Well, WE'LL" said Jack; "a pot of paint
would soon remedy that. Besides, my blinds
are not the sort of red you're thinking of.
They're so dark that-nlaybe you would not
call them red, after all. What color is your
house?'
"Gray," I say-"a very dark gray, with
brown blinds just picked out with red. Not
enough to hurt, you know, only just line o
two And, oh, Jack! the parlor is so pleas
anti 1t has a bay window and two Others
and I can make it just lovely"
"My house has a beautiful dining room.'
says Jack-'large and light and looking t.
the south. A dining room ought to be the
most cheerful room in the house."
"And where is the lzitchen?" I ask.
Jack looks blank. "Really, don't know.
Down stairs, / think. But it is good kitchen.
I asked particularly"
Els there dumb waiter?" 1 ask, and again
Jack looks puzzled.
II don't know" he says slowly. "Do houses
generally have dumb walters i'll the country?"
"Jack!" exclaim, indignantly. "Of course
they do, when there is a down stairs kitchen.
How could one servant spend her time in
carrying the meals up and down? Now my
kitchen is on the same floor with the dining
room, but separated from it by a short
passage, so that the smell of cooking cannot
reach it,"
'The smell of cooking can't well come into
the dining room from down stairs Kitchen"
says Jack.
ayes, it can,"I say; sup the dumb waiter.
"But you don't know that there is a dumb
waiter" says Jack, laughing
"Then that's worse" I cry. "But see just
what it is. You've made up your mind that
we are to 60 and live in your house, whether
it suits or not and you don't care bit that
mine is ever so much better in every way,
andn-
"Why, Ethel, Ethel, what ais you?" cries
Jack, looking at me in simple amazement.
II am quite sure l never said anything of the
kind, and never saw you like this before"
That is quite true, as I very well know. l
struggle for amoment against the conviction;
then a sudden flood of remorse rushes over
me. / can't well burst into tears in a hotel
dining room, and fight valiantly against the
choky feeling in my throat and try to wink
away the salt drops that rise to my eyes,
"Poor little woman!" says Jack, seeing my
efforts. "You are just worn out.N Never
mind, dear l know what it all means. You
are tired and overheated and nervous, and L
ought not to have let you do so much. l have
no doubt at all that your house is better than
mine Women are always better judges Of
such things than men. The best thing we can
do is to go straight to the agent and take your
house, and then so home quietly"
But Jacks amiability is the finishing stroke.
ooh, Jack!n cry, II am wretch. I am
thoroughly ashamed of myself. don't be-
lieve my house will do atalL, and I know that
yours is just what we want No. What we
will do is to go straight to your agent and
take your hour house. | know mine can't
hold candle to it."
Jack laughs. ave seem to have changed
sides rather suddenly" he says, "and not to
be much nearer to settlement. I'll tell you
what we Will do We have nearly an hour
yet before the next train goes. I will tell
your hackman to drive us to your house,
and after we have seen that we will go on to
mine Then we can make up our minds, and
write to the agent of the one we decide
upon"
81 know it will be yours" say; but Jack
shakes his head.
''More likely yours" he says. "Women
always know more about such things than
men. At all events, it is well to have a
choice"
The hackman takes us back by the way
which Travelled before, and which remem-
Der we'll am careful to point out all its
beauties to Jack-the heavy trees which
nearly meet overhead; the saucy little brook
which rambles across the road under the
messy stone bridge; the pretty cottages stand
ing each in its own space of greenery on one